


No Peace, No Rest

by mneiai



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Like realllly slow, M/M, Non-binary Deathlord, Oops Stormwind got sacked again, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-31
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-04-16 00:55:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14153151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mneiai/pseuds/mneiai
Summary: Fleeing from Stormwind as his father had before him, Anduin takes refuge in an unlikely place.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Per usual, not beta'd, partially written on a phone, please excuse typos.
> 
> I can rant forever about how Anduin and Arthas aren't similar at all and no one with a player's perspective should actually believe that, but also could get a good amount of babbling on about the similarities between Anduin and Darion. So, naturally, that means they've gotta fall for each other, right? lol
> 
> Anyway, if you would like to discuss this fic, the ship or characters, lore in general, or the possibility of 1x1 canon char RPing, you can find me on Tumblr at [manyangledone](http://manyangledone.tumblr.com).

Of all the places that Anduin thought he’d end up when they fled Stormwind, Acherus was not one of them. But it had been Thassarian who had saved him, gotten him out of the way of a goblin bomb, and he had no reason not to trust him. 

It felt a little too ironic, though, knowing how his father had fled to Lordaeron when he had been younger and now Anduin was here, in a place so many of the remains of Lordaeron’s people had been. 

He could tell some of his men, the guards that had gone with him, were growing increasingly uncomfortable at being surrounded by Death Knights. Anduin, who had forced himself to spend time with the Highlord and Deathlord whenever he could, was still a little unnerved. He was unconsciously calling on traces of Shadow to keep his calm, to fight back the way his skin naturally wanted to crawl. It wasn’t sustainable, but it was something.

“Thank you for your assistance, Thassarian. I...don’t think I would have made it out of there, without you.”

“I was simply doing my duty, your majesty,” Thassarian replied, though they both knew it was more than that at this point. Thassarian had been becoming a fixture around Stormwind, visiting his sister more and more often as Anduin's people became more accepting.

Anduin spared a thought to Leryssa, knowing she'd gone with other civilians in the first wave of desperate tram trips to Ironforge. He would have to get word to them, let them know their king was safe and would no more abandon them than his father had before him. Stormwind would rebuild as it always did.

He turned at the sound of approaching steps, seeing the Deathlord and Highlord rushing to meet him.

“I heard of the attack on Stormwind. Please know that you are welcome here as long as necessary.” The three Death Knights exchanged looks, Anduin sure he was missing something.

“I thank you, but I can't stay long. Stormwind's remaining forces will need me.”

The Deathlord seemed to hesitate, an unusual look for them, before asking, “Are you sure it's wise to go out into the open so soon? We can arrange for some means of communication between your forces and you.”

Anduin narrowed his eyes. “What is going on?”

Darion seemed to brace himself. “The Lich King was...displeased when he heard of the siege.”

“Oh.”

He wondered what it must have been like for Bolvar to know that Stormwind had been attacked so heavily once more. He wondered if he'd feared Anduin dead, going the way of his grandfather, or grandmother. 

“He knows I'm fine? Or...unharmed?” Because it was lying to say “fine,” he wasn't, he didn't think he'd be in a long time. No wonder his father had been so obsessed with the Alliance and protecting their people, if he'd witnessed such a sight as Anduin had.

“He does,” the Deathlord assured him, giving that odd hesitation again before adding, “though he is…threatening to mobilize the Scourge.”

“That is the last thing we need!”

“I've told him that! But the Horde sacking Stormwind? It's drawing on all sorts of past trauma for him.”

Grimacing, Anduin wondered what he could actually do to alleviate that. Bolvar refused to let Anduin meet with him, everything relayed through the Deathlord. 

“That's why you want me to stay here--if I'm in more danger, out in the field or somewhere the Horde could target….”

“He'd go mad with worry. More mad. Madder?” The Deathlord shook their head, shrugging. “If you're here, I'm here, there are always Death Knights nearby….”

“Some of them are Horde,” Anduin pointed out. “YOU’RE Horde.”

The Deathlord shrugged. “Our task is keeping the Scourge contained, that comes before any faction. And...honestly we're all exhausted by these faction conflicts. If this one is less intense because they're busy searching for you, that works in our favor.”

Anduin thought on that. “Then I need to keep my location secret, don't I? It's not just a matter of staying here, it's...setting a false trail and making Sylvanas obsessed with following it.”

Thassarian gave a dry chuckle. “It's not as though it's hard, to draw out the Banshee Queen's obsessions. Assign the task to Koltira and I.”

One of his guards moved closer to Anduin, drawing his attention. “My king, are you sure it would be wise to stay...here?”

“Wiser than the alternatives, I think. There’s no where I could go where I could have such easy contact with the Alliance that wouldn’t be a target because of me. Or, such as with Ironforge, is already a target because it’s a major Alliance stronghold.”

Anduin grimaced after he finished speaking. Stormwind and Ironforge had been taking the brunt of the refugees from the Alliance’s other races, with Teldrassil burning and Kalimdor under Horde control, he could only imagine the added strain on the dwarven kingdom, now. 

But that...did bring up some other possibilities. “This isn’t the Broken Isles, is it?” 

He glanced at Darion, who shook his head. “No, we have come back to Icecrown.” 

Anduin narrowed his eyes, thinking. There hadn’t been much Horde activity in Northrend in recent months, they’d all been distracted by the Legion and now by the war, so Anduin had withdrawn many of his own troops, as well. But now...with the Scourge not a real threat to the Alliance, it might be time to repopulate some of their holdings. At least until they could move against the Horde and take back the Night Elves’ lands.

“Guard Captain, I will be sending you each to one of my allies to pass on a message. I will stay here and coordinate our forces. Under no circumstances are you to tell anyone of where I am.” They bowed and nodded. “Darion, could I borrow parchment and...something to write with? I need to get word to my allies of my survival.” 

He would only tell a few where he was, those he could trust not to overreact to it. And until he’d setup faster communication, he had lots of time to plan.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I rewrote this chapter like five times since posting the first one and I still sort of dislike it, but I started on chapter 3 and realized how long it had been since posting the first chapter and that I just needed to get something out.
> 
> I'm on [tumblr](https://manyangledone.tumblr.com) if anyone wants to chat about this or other rarepairs or whatever.

Anduin was given a room in the officers’ quarters, but rarely spent time in it. Not only was it deep enough into Acherus to make him feel too-trapped, surrounded by death and necromancy, but he also knew if he spent too much time on his own with no tasks to occupy his mind, he would sink into depression.

Instead he used a space that was almost like an office, not far away from the area where the Highlord worked, and set about planning. Thassarian had been assigned as something between a bodyguard and an errand boy and Anduin made good use out of him, as it wouldn’t raise any flags if Horde spies saw him conversing with Alliance leadership. He sent him with messages, verbal and written, to allies Anduin knew would be trustworthy and, just as importantly, willing to deal with a Death Knight in their midst.

Eventually, with Khadgar’s help, mirrors were setup similar to the ones Jaina used to use with Anduin and his father--two way communication, as secure as Khadgar could make it, and keyed to only work with a few people. The lichs around Acherus found the magic they gave off infinitely fascinating, apparently, and Anduin eventually granted one to the Deathlord for them to share around.

Anduin woke early and went to sleep late, plotting and planning throughout the day, and by the time he’d reached his room he often just collapsed in his bed. The only times he really had to think about being the only living being around was for meals, which Darion himself had taken control of to ensure there weren’t any ‘surprises’ after a first, near disastrous, one. All meat was meat to some of the undead, whether it was something a living human would want to eat or not.

He took his meals in Darion’s office, the desk cleared off enough for the tray of food and drink. Where it came from, he knew better than to ask. He remembered enough of what it was like searching for food on his own in Pandaria to simply be grateful for warm meals. And while he knew the Ebon Blade prided itself on free will, he also knew enough about them to know no one there would attempt to poison him, for fear of the retaliation.

“If you don’t mind me saying, Highlord, you seem...more stressed than normal,” Anduin pointed out at a meal during his second week, knowing enough of Darion’s tells by that point to pick up on the mood. 

They had started off rarely speaking, both buried in their work, but eventually they’d had to talk about that, which had led to other discussions. About their pasts, which the other had known only from fanciful seeming stories, about the Light, about the state of the world. It was only normal, now, for Anduin to comment on something.

Darion looked up at him, then back down at whatever he was reading. “We have been keeping track of...unusual magical patterns at the Lich King’s behest. They’ve become...more frequent, more powerful.”

Anduin raised his eyebrows, glancing at the papers. “Has he told you what they are?”

“No, but given the locations of some of them…I believe it might be the Old Gods.”

“And here I thought things couldn’t get worse,” Anduin groaned, imagining how much pleasure they must be taking in the turmoil of Azeroth. 

“You were not the only one. It’s another reason I think many of us are willing to...intervene in this current war.”

“Intervene? That’s a mild way to put ‘harbor the leader of one of the factions’,” Anduin murmured, giving Darion a lopsided smile to show he wasn’t trying to be critical. 

Darion, for his part, ducked his head, and despite the intimidating armor and his deathly look, seemed bashful. “You have been our friend for years, Anduin. A significant portion of your life. Of our unlives. Your death would not be celebrated, even by the Horde here.” He gave a wry smile of his own. “Especially after what happened with Tirion's body.”

Grimacing, Anduin forced himself to take the implications more as a complement than a threat. Tirion Fordring could not be raised as a Death Knight, the Light had nearly killed those attempting to do so, and there was no guarantee it wouldn't be the same for Anduin. It made his safety, and the comfort that gave Bolvar, all the more important for the safety of Azeroth. When he died, Anduin would return to the Light, he'd know the peace and comfort only it could offer, but he'd possibly never see many of those he knew in life again.

“Tirion loved you.” He placed a hand on Darion's arm, ignoring the chill, the tug at his mind from the Saronite. “I think, in other circumstances, maybe he would have agreed. To stay with you and continue defending Azeroth.”

Darion chuckled, humorless. “In circumstances where he didn't see undeath as an abomination?”

“Darion, it's not that.”

“Is it not? I don't know how you manage, Anduin, how you stay so calm here. You are...you are remarkable for a living being.” His intense gaze locked in Anduin, a weight to it that settled in his bones.

Ducking his head, Anduin grasped for a response, almost relieved when one became unnecessary.

“Highlord….” A lich waited at the door, staring at them.

“I apologize, Your Majesty.” Darion collected himself, becoming the stoic figure he so often seemed once more, though his gaze lingered where Anduin's hand hastily dropped from him.

“There is no need. We should return to our duties.” Anduin stopped at the door, bowing more formally than usual, but with somber respect. “I hope perhaps we can finish this conversation someday, Highlord.”


	3. Chapter 3

Anduin rarely saw the living in person. A few messengers, here and there, but so few knew of his presence, and fewer still could risk the notice of their enemies. It made him wonder, sometimes, training with Thassarian, in deep theological discussion with Sally Whitemane of all people, or practicing Orcish and reminiscing over Pandaria with Nazgrim, if he wasn't projecting onto the undead around him. The dead didn't need to sleep, or even really rest, and no matter when Anduin broke away from his work, there was always someone to spend time with. But he couldn't know if they actually found any interest in him, or were solely acting on his former guardian's orders.

There were rare visits with others, some refused to simply take Anduin’s word for it that he was fine and made excuses to meet in person. Genn was the most frequent, though even he had only made it every few weeks--between Anduin’s insistence that he didn’t need checked up on (he didn’t) and the Ebon Blade worrying about security risks, there was no way for him to visit more.

But there was something else about all of that, floating around in the back of Anduin’s head, a half-formed idea he hadn’t been able to dissect yet.

“You’re too pale,” Genn insisted, as they wrapped up their actual work.

“I don’t get much of a chance to go out in the sunlight,”Anduin replied, in a way to agree with Genn while also expressing that there wasn’t much to be done.

Greymane shook his head, stepping closer, until Anduin swore he could feel the heat radiating off of his body. It was unnerving, after getting used to the chill of the undead. “I know there’s been advantages to having you here--Sylvanas is spending more time tearing apart possible hiding places than attacking civilian targets, just as you thought--but this has gone on long enough.”

“We’re still not ready, we need more time to fully prepare. We don’t have the manpower the Horde does, we need to be better prepared than they are. We need to take them by complete surprise.”

He set his hands on Anduin’s shoulders and squeezed with gentle strength, staring deeply into his eyes. “Do you really think you can’t do that from elsewhere? With your own people? Or do you think you deserve this? You don’t have to keep punishing yourself, my boy, you did all that anyone could have done.”

Genn’s hands were too hot, too soft, his eyes too full of emotion, and Anduin shrugged out of his hold and stepped back. “That’s not what this is. It’s NOT.” He couldn’t afford to be killed, no one could afford the retaliation that the Scourge would rain down on the living, Anduin suspected with little concern for which faction they gave allegiance to. “I know you think you know what’s best for me, but you don’t. I’m making the most out of a multitude of bad situations. I’m not asking you to understand, just to trust that I know what I’m doing.”

The entire encounter weighed heavily on his mind, but it was the physical aspects that he couldn’t help dwelling on.

***

Bringing it up to Darion one odd, desperately stressful day had probably not been the best way to handle his worries, though. 

Darion had shaken his head and walked around the table, carefully placing his hands on both of Anduin's, the coolness and hardness of his skin not bothering Anduin at all. “We have grown unused to such time with the living, it is true. But you are no burden, Anduin Wrynn, you are a breath of fresh air. Not for the Light around you--many of those here cared little enough about that in life--but for you, yourself. If the Lich King hadn't ordered your comfort, we would still gladly spend time with you.”

“But?”

Darion hesitated. “But the Lich King ordered more than your comfort, and we have not done all we could to keep you in contact with your own kind.”

Anduin rolled that over in his mind. “My isolation, from the living, he wanted it.”

When Darion stayed silent, Anduin took that as all the confirmation he could give.

“Because...why?” He frowned, thinking out loud, “If my attachments are to the Ebon Blade, I'll continue contact with his people even after the war?”

“Yes.” It was clear from the answer that it was merely part of it.

“That my growing comfort around you all will make eventually meeting him less of a shock?”

“...I don't think he believes it will ever be a normal reunion, but there is some hope.”

Anduin licked his lips, not missing the way Darion's eyes were drawn to the action. “Is he the only one that wishes I begin to see all of you as…as the norm?”

“Anduin….”

“Because I--it's working.” Anduin left it at that, watching Darion's reaction.

“It...it is?” There was something timid in the question, hopeful, and Anduin wondered how invested he was in the scheme.

“Humans adjust, don't we? And I've been here, Light, it's been months already, hasn't it? It's hard to remember, what it's like to be around other living people. And I...I don't particularly like it, when I am.” He reached out, tentatively tracing fingers across the back of Darion’s hand. 

Darion stayed quiet, and completely still, watching him.

“I think it’s time, isn’t it? We’ve all delayed enough. I want to meet Bolvar.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, Anduin gets to meet Bolvar! Next part after this is a little different, then we get back into Alliance related business, probably.
> 
> If anyone wants to let me bounce ideas off of them or anything like that, lmk. I'm a little torn about a few of the ways I'm thinking of this going.
> 
> Also, if you're into Discord RPing, and would be interested, lmk. I mostly am playing Anduin right now, but have varied interests (even though it doesn't always look that way from my fics lol)

The immediate blast of cold distracted Anduin from his steadily building anxiety. He hadn't spent much time outside in Northrend, except to visit the Alliance encampments in disguise to check on the refugees. While all parts of the Acherus outside of very specific areas tended to be cold (his bedroom, thankfully, was heated by a mix of fires and spells), nothing could have prepared him for the shock of just how frigid the top of Icecrown Citadel was.

Bundled into thick cloth armor and a heavy fur cloak, Anduin ducked his head deep into his collar and followed the Deathlord as they approached the Frozen Throne. There was a long, steep staircase to climb, Anduin's heart seeming to beat faster in his chest with every step. He could make out Bolvar, bare-chested, covered in ice, sitting in the throne. The only sign he was aware was the blazing eyes, recognizable as dragon fire from afar, that still couldn't melt the ice. And the increasingly oppressive feeling of the Lich King's power.

“Bolvar,” his breath caught on the name and, weakened with emotion, he sank to his knees in front of the figure, one gloved hand set on Bolvar's knee, taking in every detail he could through the ice.

-Anduin, my boy.- The weight in his mind made the Light within Anduin flinch away, but in the last few months he'd grown better at ignoring it.

“I've missed you so much.”

-I've watched you, watched over you. I am so sorry, that I couldn't be there- 

Anduin's free hand settled over where one of Bolvar's was.

When he’d first been told of the identity of the current Lich King, he hadn’t quite believed it. Bolvar had died at the Wrathgate, everyone knew that. And yet...the actions had sounded exactly like his former guardian. Sacrificing himself, over and over, for the good of Azeroth. Of Stormwind. There had been weeks of nightmares after that, and half-crazed fantasies about journeying to Icecrown to see him. Nothing had come of it, not with the war against the Legion still raging, and by the time that had finished, he’d realized how foolish it would be. There was no guarantee the person under the helm was still Bolvar, let alone still capable of caring about him.

Now he knew that wasn’t true, that Bolvar could still love him, deeply enough to threaten to disregard his own sacrifice and free the Scourge for him. It scared him, but also settled a part of him that was still a terrified boy, fleeing from Onyxia’s harsh lessons and seeking out his Regent for the comfort his father couldn’t give him.

-Anduin- He heard it, and yet he didn’t, the power of the Lich King pressing in closer at the edges of his thoughts as Bolvar spoke. -You have grown so much- 

If Anduin concentrated, he could sense the emotions underlying the words. The longing and regret for the time that had passed since the last time they had seen each other. 

“It doesn’t feel much like it,” he whispered, pressing closer to the block of ice, aware that down on the platform below the Deathlord could be watching. “I feel like I’m still a little boy, fumbling at being king. I--I lost Stormwind, Bolvar. It’s...it’s gone.”

There was the slightest crackling noise, as if Bolvar shifted below the ice, and the feeling of power stroking down Anduin’s back. If he hadn’t spent months among the undead, Anduin thought the comforting gesture might have been horrifying, that the touch of such powerful necromantic magic might have even hurt. Instead he felt it for what it was, for what it was meant to be--the closest Bolvar could get to holding him, now.

-Stormwind is not gone, not as long as a Wrynn is here to lead it, not as long as the people endure. It was rebuilt once, so shall it be rebuilt again. Better each time.-

“But how can I keep leading, when it’s my folly that brought us to this place? How could the people want me as king, when I’ve--I’ve done this to them. My father would have never--”

-Your father was not always a good man. Was not always a good king. His grief, and then his hatred, clouded his judgement. His temper sabotaged as much as his skills saved. Others will use him against you, to make you doubt yourself, but he would not have wanted that.-

“Did you...did you know about his death, before?”

Bolvar was silent for long minutes and Anduin wished he could make out the expression on his face through the ice, if he even still made such movements. -There was nothing left of him. No body to salvage. His soul...long gone.-

“...Would you have raised him?” That, too, was something Anduin had dwelled on. He still wasn’t sure how he felt about it, there was a part of him that would have loved to have his father back, even as the undead, even before he’d grown to know the Ebon Blade so well.

-Yes- the answer was simple, final, and one Anduin could have guessed. Bolvar hadn’t always seen eye to eye with his father, but he had loved him.

Anduin shifted to try to get feeling back into the limbs going numb from the cold, still staring at Bolvar, not sure if he’d be allowed more visits after this. “If I had died….”

-YES- Bolvar hadn’t needed the whole question asked, the conviction through his words thrumming against the air, heating it. -I would not lose your presence in this world, not yet.-

“Before I knew what had happened to you, I always thought...thought we’d see each other again, after death. But that would have never happened. You’re...here. You must...feel so alone.”

-There must always be a Lich King. No one else could be trusted with this power.-

Anduin didn't know how much more his heart could ache before it simply gave out. “There has to be a way. To destroy the Scourge, the power of the Lich King. To let you have peace.”

-There is some good in this. There is protecting you.-

“You've always protected me, but I’m an adult, and you can’t protect me from the truth of this. I'll always love you, Bolvar, for everything you are, even if part of that is this now. But I'll find some way to free you, to give you the rest you deserve.”

-It cannot be a priority. You have too much to do now. When there is peace, perhaps.-

Anduin could tell that Bolvar thought peace was unlikely. Maybe Anduin did, too, but that wouldn't change things. Eventually something had to give.

-You're freezing. You need to go back inside-

Grimacing, Anduin stiffly stood up, steadying himself against the throne and wondering how odd that must look, to any onlookers. No amount of clothing, no matter how enchanted, was meant to withstand this cold. 

“Can I come back? Please?” He had so many things he hadn’t even touched on, yet, and so many things he thought he needed a better grasp of Bolvar-as-Lich-King before taking the risk of mentioning.

There was a long silence, Anduin's shoulders slumping as he limped down the stairs. There was so much more to say, but to ask and discuss. He supposed the Deathlord could be their proxy, but it wasn't the same.

Just before he reached the bottom, Bolvar answered. -You may. I would like that.-

“I would, too.” He grinned at a disconcerted Deathlord before they caught themself and created the portal for them to return to the Acherus.

He turned back, gazing at Bolvar one more time, and said before he could think better of it, “If I weren't to go to the Light after dying. If my end...was another sort of beginning. I wouldn't fight that. I'm not Tirion, I've given the Light no promises.”

He stepped through the Death Gate, knowing that Bolvar could use time to process that.


	5. Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd etc etc
> 
> If anyone wants to discuss the fic or anything else Warcraft, feel free to say so in the comments or hit up my Tumblr.

“King Wrynn.”

The young boy turned, bowing in acknowledgement, and Thoras was struck by how mature such a young man was. He could see it in his eyes, in the lines of his face. So different than Varian had been, as a teenager, not the same aging from tragedy that had hung over him. 

“King Trollbane. If you seek the Highlord, he has been called away and should return within an hour.”

Thoras shook his head, striding deeper into the room and letting the door clang shut behind him. “It’s not Mograine I seek.” Even if catching the two of them together in the office might have helped confirm some of the rumors running rampant through the necropolis.

“Was there something you needed from me?” Curious, wary, reminding Thoras of the cats that used to be kept in his castle for mousing. 

“I have been remiss in my duties to the Wrynn line. Your grandfather, and father, were allies and friends.” Thoras watched Wrynn’s carefully polite expression and gave a snort. “Though, I was that long before, wasn’t I? Closing my kingdom off from the Alliance.”

“King Trollbane, it was understandable at the time--” There was no guile in his expression, only the sincere forgiveness of a priest, and Thoras had to interrupt.

“Please, King Wrynn, call me Thoras. Or Trollbane, if that’s too personal. My kingdom is gone, my people scattered, there’s no point clinging to my past.” And even if it wasn't, the boy technically would have outranked him, as leader of the faction, even if he sometimes seemed like little more than Greymane's puppet.

“...Please, call me Anduin, as well.” Now the boy gave a wry smile, glancing down at the map before him. “I’m not much more of a King than you, anymore.”

Thoras grimaced, he hadn’t meant to start the topic in such a way. “Your people are still yours and your kingdom will be reclaimed. That’s one thing about Stormwind that never really changes--it gets knocked around and comes back punching, every time.”

He leaned against the wall, hands at his sides, as non-threatening as a Death Knight could ever be. He had never been much of one for diplomacy, and Light knew he’d been an awful father, but this boy wasn’t anything like the courtiers he’d had to deal with or his own son. Varian had been lucky to have such an heir and Thoras wondered how much of who Anduin was had come thanks to the Lich King’s influence, back when he’d been alive. He could always hear his master, feel his emotions, and he hadn't missed the turmoil leaking through when the boy visited him. That hadn't been a servant's feelings for their employer, a subject's for their royals. That had been a father's. It was what finally decided for Thoras that he should approach Wrynn.

“There’s defeat, and then there’s defeat, and for Stormwind, it’s only the temporary sort. You’ve got the Horde in shambles looking for you and the neutral states starting to do more than just sit back and let you fight.”

Anduin nodded, sinking back into his seat. “I do. If only it was so easy to handle the Alliance.”

“They shouldn’t have forced you to become High King.” Anduin's expression fell and Thoras hurriedly continued, “They should have let you mourn and grow into the role of king. Even your father had Lothar around when he was first ruling.”

That earned him a sad smile. “I had Bolvar, the first time.”

“Now that would be something to see! Bolvar coming off that throne of his, the Lich King as Regent of Stormwind.” He chuckled, relieved when Anduin laughed as well. 

Emotions were not easy as a Death Knight, but they’d never really been as a living being, either. And now, even when he got them right, most of the living seemed to think the worst of him. Not this one, though, everything Mograine and Whitemane said about him seemed to hold true.

“The thing is, Anduin….I know we’re not close. We never met when I was alive and we haven’t spent much time around each other now. But I know a little of what you’re going through. About being a King, at least. And I’d thought I’d offer my input, if you need it. If you need someone.”

“Did Bolvar put you up to this?”

Thoras smirked, shaking his head. If anything, Thoras imagined that Bolvar would have ordered him to stay away, if he’d thought of it. To be the only father-figure that Anduin had left, to cement that connection so that Anduin would join them, eventually. Death had a tendency to bring out the worst in people, even noble Paladins on their high horses ended up showing off possessiveness they’d never have revealed before.

“No. I was just...thinking about my kingdom, my life. My failures. Thought you could use some perspective on your own.”

“You’re not going to reprimand me? Claim that I didn’t fail?”

“You let the enemy overrun your kingdom. It is a failure. We both know that, I’m not going to sugarcoat it, we’ll leave the bullshitting to the peasants. But failure isn’t the end of everything. Light, look at me--failed myself, my kingdom, my son, and here I am, with another chance, protecting Azeroth again.”

Anduin smiled, despite the harsh words. “I have to admit...it would be nice, having someone to talk to who will say the truth.”

Thoras refused to think of this as another sort of second chance--the Lich King would never allow another to have a fatherly position for Anduin now that he had him back--but it was something.


	6. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! So with the whole Tumblr ketfluffle going on, I've made a WoW Shipping Discord for people who want to discuss ships, fanworks, etc!
> 
> https://discord.gg/sQwVcF2
> 
> This chapter is kinda the end of the first arc of the story, I may make next chapter the end of the fic and turn this into a series or I may continue on, I'm still debating.

“You seem...well.” Darion was waiting for Anduin in his room when he returned, knowing him well enough, it seemed, to know he wouldn’t be back in public after visiting Bolvar.

“What were you expecting me to be like?”

Darion didn’t answer, just stood in silence, watching Anduin shed the heavy layers of cold weather clothing he wore.

“I’m glad I did it,” Anduin finally stated, filling in the silence. “I’ve wondered for too long how he was doing, what he was like. Now I know, at least as much as he was willing to reveal.” He looked back at Darion, expression crumpling. “Is there no way to free him?”

Anduin slumped onto the edge of his bed, Darion moving up to stand in front of him, setting hands--he’d taken off his gloves, at some point--gently on Anduin’s shoulders. He always tried to be gentle with Anduin, aware of their differences in physical abilities. 

“There is not. Not that we or any of the Cult of the Damned have found. Bolvar was not wrong when he took up the helm. I am sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.” 

Anduin leaned his cheek against one of Darion’s chilled hands, looking up at him, as they descended into silence for a few more minutes. Eventually, Darion’s other hand moved, tentatively running through Anduin’s hair, playing with the strands that had fallen from the ribbon that held it in place.

“He said I could return. I have so much more to talk to him about, but I don’t know what to actually bring up. He didn’t seem volatile, but from some of what the Deathlord has told me…” he trailed off, remembering the story of the Red Dragonflight and the slaughter Bolvar had encouraged. “But I hope talking to me has made him understand he doesn’t need to mobilize the Scourge if something happens to me.”

Darion tilted his head to the side, hand sliding under Anduin’s chin and tilting his face up. “And why is that?”

Licking his lips, suddenly nervous, Anduin admitted, “I told him he could raise me, if I died.”

He wasn’t surprised by how rigid Darion suddenly went, the way his eyes seemed to blaze even brighter in the dim lighting of the room. “Why? Why would you do that?”

“Because it’s true. I know all of you feel like you’re damned, like you’re monsters, but you’re NOT. And if staying among you for-for however long I’d continue to exist is the price I’d have to pay to keep the Lich King in check, it’s actually a bargain.”

“You deserve more, better, than this unlife.”

“I’ve spent my whole life making sacrifices for Azeroth, I won’t stop because it’s suddenly a scarier one, with bigger personal implications. You of all people should understand that, Darion Mograine.”

He stood, pushing Darion back, and Darion moved away like he was being dismissed. But Anduin, gripped his helmet and pulled it off, revealing Darion’s full face and confused expression underneath.

“Is it so hard to believe that someone would like to be around you?”

“The living aren’t supposed to be comfortable with the undead, it is unnatural!”

“There’s a long, long list of reasons I’m weird, this isn’t even the top of it.” Anduin braced himself, forcing a coy smirk onto his face. “But maybe this is.”

He pulled Darion to him, ignoring the pain as the plated chest slammed into his cloth covered one, and pushed their lips together. Darion froze up and Anduin was just about to stop when he began reciprocating. It wasn’t much, despite the fact they were alone in Anduin’s bedroom. Anduin got the impression Darion had even less experience at such things than he did. But even just kisses, what might count as cuddling (Anduin was certainly going to consider it such), seemed like more than enough to get his point across.

***

The war didn’t so much end as Sylvanas was finally forced to face that there was a greater threat looming over Azeroth. With the Ebon Blade's warning, Anduin had been preparing his own people, and getting word to others outside of the Alliance, but there was only so much they could do when fighting for their survival. Kul’tiras was onboard, Zandalar was a weaker new member of the Horde than they would have been, but everything would have been significantly easier if Sylvanas’ lust for power had any reason behind it.

Eventually, the Alliance took the fighting to Azshara with the Horde reluctantly following, and once more Anduin found himself thinking of being there on the frontlines, with Genn's encouragement. Darion had other ideas.

“Absolutely not.”

Greymane bristled, not a rare sight. His wolf was closer to the surface than Anduin was used to, a reminder of why he tried to keep Genn away from others when he visited. Worgens and the undead never seemed to get along well.

“So you’re his jailor? You're never going to let him leave, I knew it!”

“Genn! Don't be foolish.”

Genn sneered. “Unlike you? You honestly think these things care about you? The undead can't feel such things.”

“You know that's not true!” Anduin protested, at the same time as a haunting, “How dare you!” left Darion's lips.

“I think it would be best if you returned to our forces, Genn. Let Halford and the others know I've approved the mission, that they should start preparing in earnest.”

“You can tell them just as easily as I. You've spent too long here, the war is all but over, it's time to return to your life,” there was no missing the emphasis he put on 'life’. 

Genn set his hands on Anduin's shoulders, ignoring the way the Death Knights around them bristled.

“You're one to lecture about his position, Greymane.” Thoras stood in the doorway, glowing eyes narrowed. “He's still participating in the Alliance, not walling himself off and twiddling his thumbs.”

“You don't have any say in the politics of this Alliance, Trollbane.”

Anduin pushed Genn away from him, towards the mage portal back to Boralus. “No, if you two want to have it out about old times, it won't be when we have better things to do. You have your orders, King Greymane, I expect you to follow them.”

The sudden chill in his voice wasn't something that Anduin had anticipated and the way the air moved around him, the pressure in his mind, made him distinctively aware of how he normally didn't have more than one of Bolvar's horsemen around him at a time.

Genn went, grumbling, clearly plotting something. Anduin would have to deal with some retaliation in the future, for the slight. The pettiness of Gilneans was well known.

“Neither of you were helping, you realize.” He turned on them. They stood on opposite sides of the room, tall and dripping power, figures that Anduin supposed would intimidate most others. “Genn is a leader within the Alliance and was friends with my father.”

Thoras huffed, “He’s one act of treason away from deposing you and taking over as High King. Now that he knows he can’t control you, he’ll probably do it.”

Anduin scowled. “He would not. He cares about me, about the Alliance.”

“And yet you’re here because he and those Night Elves weren’t there for you and your people.”

Gritting his teeth, Anduin began putting away the maps and other props that were used during the meeting. The subject dropped, if only because he was unwilling to speak more on it, and the meeting disbanded.

Anduin knew Genn wasn't wrong, though. As much as he'd miss the Ebon Blade, the chances he'd have to meet with Bolvar, he was still a king of the living, and he could only put off returning to them for so long before it wasn't just hesitance, but betrayal.


End file.
